That's All That Matters
by An Unknown
Summary: If she's happy, then that's all that matters.


**A/N: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Or whatever time of day it may be when you read this. I suppose the tale that follows is the result of a fit of melancholy into which I have descended as of late, but I hope you enjoy it, regardless. The setting is remarkably similar to the final scene in my previous oneshot, but the two are wholly unrelated. The similarity is more due to my ability to write those characters far more adroitly than some of the other main characters of the saga. Anyway, that's enough rambling, I think. I do not own the universe, characters, books or movies-or really much of anything else. PAX DEI TECVM.**

That's All That Matters

Harry Potter was hard at work, helping his former Transfiguration professor out with the renovation of Hogwarts Castle. It was quickly realised following the final battle that so severe was the damage, even magic would be unable to make the formidable old fortress inhabitable again before the next term was set to begin, and as a consequence, the new Minister of Magic declared that the school would remain closed for a period of one year, during which students might recuperate from the trials they had all suffered during the war. Shortly after this decision was handed down, the new Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, had approached several of her oldest and most talented pupils and asked them if they would be willing to help her with the rebuilding process.

But Harry, while undoubtedly powerful enough to handle some of the spellwork to restore the castle itself, had been given a somewhat odd task to perform. Professor McGonagall could not bring herself to move into the headmaster's office unless and until someone cleaned out the paraphernalia that Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape had accumulated in their respective tenures as headmaster. The wound, she said, was still too fresh to be thus exacerbated. Harry, for his part, enjoyed the chance to speak to the dozens of portraits that lined the walls, learning from many of the greatest wizards in history, even as he set about cleaning the place for the new Headmistress.

Hermione had been very jealous indeed when he told her of his task, for, as she put it, 'If Professor Snape were able to come up with all those new spells and potion-refinements in his school-days, writing them in the margin of his textbook, just think what he must have developed in his maturity! Not to mention Dumbledore, who, by all accounts, was the greatest and most powerful wizard of our time, and who we know invented several unique magical devices'. But he did his best to placate her, and every time he discovered something new that one of the previous residents of the office had developed, he immediately brought it to her for study.

The work was progressing quite nicely, and Harry was optimistic that the castle might soon be restored to the happy home he remembered. But today, the portraits noticed as he walked in, something seemed different. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his gait shuffling, his eyes empty and almost lifeless. They looked at each other. Who would work up the courage and ask him?

Snape's portrait rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, 'Idiots and cowards'. Turning his attention to the dark-haired boy who was half-heartedly trying to go through a stack of papers, he spoke up. 'Potter'!

Harry jumped up in surprise and looked about wildly, an involuntary reaction from days when that voice had snapped him out of his daydreams over a cauldron. Snape continued, 'What's the matter, boy? Has the public not been giving the Boy-Who-Won enough fawning adoration for his taste'? Harry glared at the offending portrait, but remained silent.

Dumbledore's image sighed. 'Severus, was that really necessary'? Snape remained silent, his face impassive. Dumbledore therefore turned his attention back to Harry. 'Harry, what's happened'?

Harry looked up again and replied, 'Nothing's happened'. In response, he received that characteristic look that belongs to all headmasters when they know you are not being entirely truthful. He sighed. 'Ron came to visit last night. He's doing quite well for himself, actually, taken over Fred's role in the joke shop quite well. Anyway, Percy had been asked to come out and see whether or not the castle would be ready for when the Minister's order expires and school resumes next month, and Ron offered to do it for him, since he was coming up here anyway'.

Another headmaster from a previous century interjected, 'That's hardly cause for you to be so down. Why would a visit from your best friend make you so glum'?

Harry didn't answer him directly. 'You remember, Professor, that old saying you used to quote to me every time I was mouthing off about Professor Snape'?

Dumbledore nodded. 'Of course. "Before you criticise someone, try to walk a mile in his shoes". Is that the one to which you were referring'?

'Yeah. That's the one. And I think I finally understand it'.

A high, nasal voice piped up from a short distance down the row of portraits. 'All right, that's enough. Pay up, Albus. I told you he'd figure it out without your help. He's smarter than he looks'.

Snape glanced over at the offending portrait. 'This is hardly conclusive proof, Phineas. Shut up and let the boy finish his explanations before you start prattling on again'.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Pay up? What's that supposed to mean'?

A very guilty expression spread across the face of Dumbledore's portrait, and Snape interjected once again, 'Never mind. Just finish your explanation and I'll tell you all about Albus' weakness for the occasional flutter'. Dumbledore's portrait immediately began to protest, but almost as soon as he began, he seemed to have been silenced. The Snape portrait tucked his wand back in his robes. 'I must thank you, Potter, for having them paint me with my wand. It's given me a great advantage over my fellow headmasters. Now, with the interruptions out of the way, get on with it'!

Harry almost grinned at this. Almost. 'For the longest time, I didn't understand what you meant. What did shoes have to do with anything? In the end, I had to ask Hermione. She said it meant that you have to have felt another's pain before you have the right to judge them. I still didn't really get it, but I thanked her for the explanation and moved on. I'd almost forgotten about it.

'But I remembered that night, more than a year ago at this point, when I died. Having looked at his memories, I finally knew why he was so bitter. Well, now I've gone a step further. I've not only seen his shoes; I've walked in them'.

Phineas Nigellus Black tried to interrupt again, 'You see? I _told_ you, Al-' It took him a few moments to realise that he'd been silenced, and a very angry expression covered his face, but Harry continued anyway.

'Like I said, Ron was doing his brother a favour by coming up here, but he had already been planning to come up to see Hermione...' His voice trailed off. After a minute or so, 'He proposed last night. They're to be married next year, on the anniversary of the battle'.

Snape looked up with some interest. 'And this bothers you'?

Quietly, 'Yes'.

Snape inhaled deeply and rubbed his face with his hands. After some moments, he mused, 'It would seem, Mr Potter, that you and I are far more alike than either of us would like to admit'.

Harry sat and thought about this for a while. 'You know what the worst part is'?

Snape immediately replied, 'He's a dolt'. Seeing the uncomprehending stares of the other portraits-and Harry-he continued, 'That's the most painful part. Not only did you let the perfect woman, the most wonderful witch of the age, _the woman you loved_, slip through your grasp. The one who snatched her from you is not worthy to breathe the same air as she'.

'But he makes her happy. That's what matters'.

Ten Months Later

Harry stood in the nave of the church, hands behind his back, silently watching the ceremony through the doors. As his best friend and the object of his affections made her way up the aisle, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was when her eyes lit up and her mouth curved upward from sheer joy. He was happy for her. Really. But the dull ache in his chest still remained, constantly reminding him that that smile had not been his doing. That that joy was not for him.

She kissed her father and then walked from his arms to those of her red-haired groom, still beaming. When they had said their vows and exchanged rings, he had to close his eyes; he couldn't bear to watch the kiss. Tears slowly trickled out from under his shut eyelids, and he bowed his head in desolation.

A very odd sound and flash of light brought him back to reality with a snap. 'Sorry to startle you, Harry; I was just trying to clear away the sadness gremlins that were attacking you'. Luna Lovegood came up from behind him and looked up at his face. 'I thought you said you weren't coming. You didn't want the wizarding press to steal the spotlight for you or something like that'.

He smiled sadly. 'That was just an excuse not to be given a role. I couldn't miss her wedding'.

She nodded in her usual, dreamy way and turned back to the scene in the sanctuary. As the clergymen recessed, the newlywed couple remained at the front, and that was where they focused their attentions. 'She looks very happy, doesn't she, Harry'? Hermione was laughing quietly at something her new husband had whispered to her. Harry couldn't remember seeing her look lovelier than when she laughed. 'Yes. She does'.

Luna placed her hand in his and said, 'If she's happy...'

He took her hand and squeezed it before finishing, '...then that's all that matters'.


End file.
